


Peppermint Breath

by NovelistAngel23



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Drinking, First Meetings, Hockey, Holidays, M/M, Missed Connection, matchmaker Sasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistAngel23/pseuds/NovelistAngel23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco never expected to spend Christmas Eve at a boring hockey game with his best friend, but when a cute guy sits next to him, well, he can't find it in himself to complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peppermint Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Secretjeanmarco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretjeanmarco/gifts).



If I was being completely honest, sitting stuck between Sasha Braus and a man so loud that I couldn’t hear my own thoughts at a hockey game with teams I didn’t even know wasn’t exactly how I’d expected to spend Christmas Eve.

Usually, Christmas Eves were spent sitting between my mother and my only brother Victor. Usually, they were spent at a table full of food that looked so mouthwateringly delicious they belonged on a magazine cover. Usually, they were spent resolving arguments between my sisters and dancing with the youngest to Christmas carols.

Sitting around the hockey rink with special rinkside tickets Sasha had scored (read: extorted out of our friend Krista), with a man loudly proclaiming why the home team would FUCKING ANNIHILATE the visitors in one ear and Sasha stuffing popcorn in her mouth one handful after another in the other was… new to say the least.

At the very least, there were plenty of Christmas decorations surrounding the rink. Giant red bows with golden tips hung off of every pole, and there were candy cane wreaths on the back of every seat (inedible, as Sasha had so kindly demonstrated). I stared at one as the chaos of fans clamoring into their seats went on and decided I was a sucker for candy cane wreaths (edible or not).

Christmas carols were playing loud through the speakers, the sound of Perry Como belting about the sights of a traditional Christmas Eve burrowing into my ears but not quite penetrating the hide of my giant white coat to make me feel warm inside. I looked over at Sasha, who’d switched over to her extra large orange soda. The Christmas feeling promptly disappeared.

“Can I have your junior mints?” I asked after a long moment of watching her slurp. Sasha was a great friend, but man she was a messy eater.

She let me take her junior mints at least. I munched on them grumpily. They weren’t candy canes, but at least they tasted minty cool.

The game was starting soon. I could tell because the seats were almost all filled, only a few people roaming about--most were likely getting up to buy last minute snacks in preparation for the hours long game.

But a pair of people scooted into our aisle. I looked down each side, seeing that there were no empty seats, and I wondered for a moment if maybe they were there to speak to a friend. I sighed and scooted back in my seat, prepared to lift my legs and let them pass through.

To my surprise, they stopped beside us, and stared at the loud man and his friend who had been making my ear numb since Sasha and I had claimed our seats. “Um.” The one closest to me, short with a shaved head and big, pale green eyes crossed his arms and glared at the man. “Those are our seats.”

I groaned internally, knowing the man wouldn’t give up his seats so easily. Rinkside seats? Please.

But it was the most entertainment I’d had all day, so I discreetly watched them out of the corner of my eye, munching on my junior mints. Sasha was too busy on her phone to spy on them with me like usual.

The guy with a shaved head was the one arguing the most, his friend just standing by with his arms crossed as well, like a bodyguard ready to step in at any time. _They might need it_ , I thought, studying the man who’d sat beside me, supposedly in their seats. He was tall with broad shoulders and an angry face.

My eyes snapped back to the bodyguard friend. He looked like he could take him, if his biceps were anything to go by. I bit my lip and appreciated them for a second before letting my eyes trail up, over his chest and up his throat, and finally up to his face.

My eyes widened, and I almost choked on my junior mints.

_Oh no he’s hot._

He had bright eyes--they looked golden from where I sat--and his face was sharp and intelligent. Thick eyebrows curled unhappily over his thin, golden eyes, and in one I spotted a bar piercing that made my mouth water as much as any Christmas dinner.

“Sasha,” I hissed suddenly, elbowing her and leaning close so the guys wouldn’t hear me (although it was unlikely, given how loud the argument was becoming). “9 o’ clock!”

She looked at me, her face twisted in confusion. “Marco, you know I don’t get the number thing,” she groaned.

I rolled my eyes and firmly flicked them towards the two. She leaned over to look at them, her own eyes narrowed to study them. Slowly her suspicious gaze spread into a grin. “Ohhh, you know me too well, Marco,” she chuckled, “I am a _sucker_ for buzzcuts.”

My eyes widened, and I looked again. No the guy I’d been looking at definitely had an undercut hidden underneath his red beanie. I looked at Sasha again and shook my head, pouting. “Sash, no, the other one,” I muttered, and she leaned out to look again.

She leaned back very slowly, her grin turning into a sly, knowing smile. “Ohhh, Marco, you are so predictable,” she tsked.

I grimaced. “Sasha, stop, I just wanted to point him out.”

She laughed, loud enough that I was worried they would hear her. “Point him out to resident matchmaker, me?” she scolded. “Marco, you should’ve known this would happen.”

My face fell. God, she was right, I should’ve known. Granted, maybe I’d wanted her to work her matchmaker magic in the first place.

Subconsciously of course. Completely subconsciously.

“I’ve always wanted to make a Christmas match,” she mused, sitting back in her seat and tapping her chin. “Too bad there’s no mistletoe.”

Just as she started plotting, the loud man beside me stood from his seat, along with his friend. I looked over at them, eyes wide. Were they finally going to start fist fighting? To my surprise, the answer seemed to be no; the two men shuffled past them and out of the aisle, grumbling all the way.

The guy I’d been ogling and his friend high-fived each other and worked their way into the seats that had been vacated--the hot one settling down right beside me, his elbow nearly brushing into mine. I pulled back in time to avoid it, but that was when Sasha’s elbow rubbed up against me--or namely jabbed into my side, making me squeak in surprise and bump my own elbow into the guy beside me. “Ow!” he gasped, whipping around to look at me.

Surely my entire face turned red, a regular Rudolph. “Oh, my gosh, I’m sorry,” I muttered lamely.

He stared at me for a second before smiling crookedly and letting out a little laugh. His teeth were all shiny and white, and his smile penetrated the thick hide of my white coat to make my insides feel warm. “Nah, it’s no problem, man,” he assured and then turned back to his friend.

I glared at Sasha. “Smooth,” she commended. I pointed at my eyes with two fingers and then pointed them in her direction, making her faint chuckles devolve into a full-on cackle.

It wasn’t long before the game started, and although I’d been sure Sasha would be focused completely on the game, her concentration had shifted completely on getting me to talk to the guy beside me. I still didn’t know his name by the time the first point had been scored.

The crowd went wild, some people jumping out of their seats to cheer--I guessed home team had scored. Mystery Man and his buzzcut friend cheered along with everyone else. I only threw my hands up a little, half-heartedly cheering for home team--at least a little hometown pride made me hope they would win.

But my attention was completely on the guy beside me. The way he laughed, his voice gruff but warm; the way he watched the game, focused and sharp-eyed; the way he ate even, teeth closing before his lips, and the way his savored each bite--it all made my heart melt.

Okay I was being a little creepy. But he was the first interesting thing I’d seen all Christmas Eve, and he wasn’t nearly as messy an eater as Sasha, which was honestly a breath of fresh air.

“Just talk to him,” Sasha urged, glaring at me as I nervously chewed on the last few junior mints in the box. At least three goals had been scored, and halftime was fast approaching, but my courage was cowering in my gut.

“I can’t,” I hissed back. “He’s here with his friend, and he’s probably not even into guys--”

“Look, Marco, trust me, my gaydar is on point.”

“Sasha, you tried to hook up Ymir and Reiner.”

“That was a lapse in judgement…”

A whistle rung from the rink, stopping the players in their tracks, and catching the attention of everyone who hadn’t been paying attention, namely me and Sasha. Halftime had officially begun, and Sasha smiled wickedly at me. “Now’s your chance, tiger!” she laughed, rising up out of her seat.

I looked up at her in horror of whatever plan she’d hatched now. “Sasha, no!” I gasped.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m off to get snacks,” she assured me, starting to scoot past me. As she made it past Mystery Man, she grinned. “And you are going to flirt!”

My mouth dropped open. How could she just say that out loud? My face turned red with shame, and I refused to look at Mystery Man. “Sasha!” I called. I thought twice about calling her out though and looked at the man for a moment. He was staring at me, eyebrows raised, piercing sparkling. “Uh, g-get me more junior mints!”

“I gotcha!” she called behind her, a cackle in her voice as she turned out of the aisle.

My gaze moved back to the Mystery Man. He was smiling now, small but sure. “U-um, hi,” I murmured, knowing my face was red enough to make my freckles stand out, the worst part of blushing in my opinion. “Sorry… about her, she’s um. She’s kinda crazy.”

His smile turned a little wider and a little warmer. “Hey, I don’t mind,” he told me. “Connie here is plenty crazy too.”

“Hey!” his friend laughed from beside him. He had a bucket of popcorn just as wide as Sasha’s and candy mixed in (something I’m sure Sasha would’ve squealed about, as she was the only one I’d ever known who’d had the crazy idea to do that). “Insulting your friends is not a recommended form of flirting!”

Mystery Man’s face turned bright red too, and he groaned. “Man, fuck you, Connie,” he muttered, pulling his beanie down over his forehead and just above his eyes.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Okay, that was cute. “Flirting, huh?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

He looked up at me with shiny eyes and a shy grin. “Uh, maybe,” he responded, a little bit of confidence coming back when my smile turned wry. “It depends.”

I leaned back in my seat, picking shyly at my coat. “Depends?” I hummed. My eyes flicked up to meet his again. “Depends on what?”

The confidence was completely back when he realized I was flirting along with him. It made me bite my lip again, seeing that glint in his eyes. “On if it’s working,” he replied, crossing his arms.

My eyes flickered down to ogle his biceps again for a moment before looking at him again when he chuckled, wide with shame at having been caught staring. “I-I um.” I looked away and laughed shyly. Sasha had given me tips on flirting once, but now that it came to the actual thing, every sly line was gone from my head. I hadn’t dated in such a long time, and flirting came with that territory. “W-well it’s working then,” I replied, smiling a little bit.

 _Man, that was bad_ , I thought. _Maybe he’ll believe the blush is just because of the cold._

He looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, Sasha came bursting back into the aisle, with a box of junior mints and a new bucket of popcorn in hand.

Sasha had a way about her in that she never looked guilty. Only very accomplished and smug. I took the box from her when she handed it to me, but there was no hiding my suspicious glare. “What’re you grinning about?” I asked as she plopped back into her seat.

She leaned forward, her cheeks a little red from running in the chilly air. “Grinning about you two, what’re you guys talking about?” she laughed, and my suspicions only grew stronger.

I looked over at Mystery Man who was blushing again, beanie still pulled down over his eyes. “U-uh, we were…”

“Flirting!” his friend, Connie, called, leaning out of his seat to talk to Sasha.

Sasha grinned maniacally and sent Connie a set of thumbs up, in a way that honestly made me wonder if they were in cahoots.

I groaned and hid my face in my hands. “You’re terrible, Sasha…”

“Am I?” she laughed, before shoving my shoulder. “Come on, Marco, look up!”

“No,” I mumbled.

“Um… ”

The sound of Mystery Man’s voice made me glance up, if only to apologize for how awkward this was all turning out--but he was staring out at the rink, or rather, at the Jumbotron where the halftime Kiss Cam was spying on couples throughout the stadium.

I looked, and my lips popped open in shock. “Sasha!” I squeaked, looking from her and then back at the Jumbotron.

She grinned even wider at me. “Go on, Marco, you’re on the Kiss Cam, it’s basically mistletoe!”

I looked at the Jumbotron again, at Mystery Man’s face and mine outlined in a pretty pink heart with the words Kiss Cam in flowy script. Mystery Man cleared his throat. “Well.” We turned to each other, faces pink with embarrassment, and I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Well, I mean, we can’t turn down Kiss Cam, can we?” he chuckled.

I shook my head, smiling apologetically. “W-we don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable with it--”

But the people sitting around us had all noticed that we were the ones on the Kiss Cam, and a pretty big group of them were shouting “KISS KISS KISS,” lead by Sasha in a chorus of encouragement that brought back the Rudolph glow to my face.

He smiled at me, just as warm as he had that first time, and it made my heart begin to race in my chest. “Well,” he muttered. “I can’t say I’d be uncomfortable kissing someone as cute as you.”

My eyes widened in surprise, and I felt a smile spread across my face. “O-oh, um, o-okay.”

“Hurry up, Marco, they’ll move onto someone else if you don’t just get on with it,” Sasha scolded, pushing me forward and right into Mystery Man.

He caught me by the arms, and when I looked up at him, our eyes met. His eyes were so golden and beautiful, shining like something akin to stars. My stomach was doing flips in my chest.

Slowly--it seemed to take a million years--he moved forward and pressed his lips to mine.

His lips were actually cold, but his breath was warm, and his hands as they soothed along my arms were burning hot. I hesitantly lifted my hands to cup his face and pull him in a little closer.

All around us, people were cheering, and the Christmas carols had come back full-force, probably signifying the end of the halftime break. But still we kissed, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if fireworks were actually going on outside of the little bubble we’d created around us, because I could sure hear them in my head.

After what was surely an hour (but was only a half a minute, Sasha later told me), we pulled apart, a soft sound following the parting of our lips.

I breathed out low against his lips, hesitant to open my eyes. He chuckled, and I could feel his breath again. “You, uh.” We pulled a little further apart and opened our eyes. His face was bright red. “You taste like peppermint.”

My eyes widened in surprise, and I smiled a small smile. “Um. Junior mints,” I explained, pointing to the box I’d left in my lap.

He smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Y-yeah, I figured.”

We pulled back further, and I hesitantly put my hands in my lap. “So. Um.” I bit my lip and looked up at him. “I’m Marco,” I introduced.

He laughed at that, a deep laugh unaffected by shyness now, and reached out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Jean.”

As the game went on beside us (two more points scored, home team win), Jean and I talked more and more, flirting and laughing. He was there with Connie (his best friend) as part of a Christmas Eve tradition; he was in art school; he was local; and supposedly he had a sleeve tattoo decorating those firm biceps.

The more he spoke, the more I felt that dreamy, warm, butterfly feeling in my stomach. Sasha had told me I often had a habit of falling too fast and hard, but this descent felt a lot smoother than usual. He had the kind of rakish grin that made my heart do somersaults, and when I admitted that my ears were cold, he handed over his beanie without taking no for an answer.

“Today has been the best Christmas Eve ever,” I sighed dreamily to Sasha as we rode home from the game.

She had a huge grin on her face, very smug about having matched me and Jean. “You are such a sucker for guys who look even remotely like a bad boy.”

“I _am_ ,” I admitted, settling into the seat, thankful for the seat warmers.

Outside it was snowing, and my coat almost wasn’t enough to keep me warm. I reached over to turn up the heat, hoping Jean and Connie were warm wherever they were too. “Do you think it’ll take long for him to text me?” I asked, looking out the window again and imagining him eating takeout Chinese (another part of his Christmas Eve tradition).

Sasha laughed. “You’ll probably be texting all night, to be honest,” she assured. “I’ll give him like five minutes.”

I giggled at the thought, curling up into a happy little ball on her seat. “Oh my God, I can’t wait, maybe we’ll go on a date on Chris--” I stopped as a sudden realization hit me. “Oh my God.”

“Hmm? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my God, Sasha.” I looked at her in horror. “Oh my freaking God. Sasha I forgot to give him my number!”

She laughed the rest of the way home as I pouted.

 

The days that followed (even Christmas) were filled with much whining. I had no idea where or how to find Jean again, and like a lovesick teenager, I always had him on the brain. Where had he gone? What was he doing? Would I ever meet him again?

Sasha started to get sick of me talking about him all the time, something she wasn’t hesitant to tell me. “You need to get this guy off your mind,” she sighed one day and then grinned wickedly as if an idea had just planted itself in her head. “By going to a party.”

I squinted at her suspiciously. “Sasha, you know I hate parties,” I muttered, taking a big sip of my peppermint latte (the last one I’d ever have before the season was over). “Why would going to a party get him off my mind?”

She chuckled (not at all suspicious) as she walked beside me, a swagger in her step. “Trust me, Marco, you’re gonna want to go to this party. How can you turn down an invitation to the Braus Annual New Year’s Eve Bash! And from the host herself!”

I rolled my eyes. “Sasha, you invite me every year, and I turn you down every year. One social blunder isn’t going to change my mind.”

“Come on!” Sasha cried, shoving my shoulder. “It’ll be fun! And it’s sure to resolve your Johnny Boy troubles!”

I looked at her again, raising one eyebrow. “Oh, and how will it do that?”

She grinned wide again. “You, my friend, need some dick.”

I flushed bright red and almost choked on my coffee. “Sasha are you crazy!” I coughed, hitting my chest with my fist to clear my lungs. “What are you saying, I have a one night stand or something?”

She shrugged. “If that’s what it comes to, sure, why not?”

I glared at her.

“What! It’s not like it’s weird to have one, chin up, bud!” She looked at me seriously for a second. “I mean, that’s why you liked him at first anyway, wasn’t it? Because he looked hot.”

I blushed brighter and looked away, taking a long sip of coffee. Maybe that had been the appeal--at first. But then, as we’d talked, he’d turned out to be funny. And nice. And interesting. I lifted my shoulders, hiding in my scarf. “That’s not all of it,” I replied softly.

She sighed, long and low. “Okay then, what if I let you in on a little secret?”

I looked over at her. “A little secret?”

She smiled and shrugged, completely nonchalant--and completely messing with me. “Oh, I don’t know, Marco, maybe you don’t deserve to know! I mean, this is some really deep secret involving a party you’re not even going to!”

The way she looked at me then told me she wasn’t going to drop the issue. I could refuse to go a million times and she’d never let it go. Sasha had the stubborn persistence of a bull. I groaned after a long while and chugged the rest of my latte. “Fine, Sasha, I’ll go, now tell me the secret.”

She squealed, jumping up and fist pumping the air. “Aw yeah, success!” She scurried around to walk backwards in front of me and talk as we walked. “Two days ago, you’re never going to guess who I ran into!”

“Jean?” I asked, sounding bored.

Her face screwed up, and she stuck her tongue out at me. “No, lemme tell the story!”

I rolled my eyes and finally smiled at her, the exasperation in my expression mostly exaggerated. She smiled smugly and nodded. “Good. Okay, so I was at the pizza place downtown right? And I was ordering my usual--extra large, meat lovers with pineapples, the only true pizza to a fanatic like me--”

“Sasha.”

“Oh, right, sorry, okay but no, guess who I met there!” I raised my eyebrows at her. “Connie!”

My eyebrows shot up higher into my bangs. “What?” I gasped. “For real?” When I’d guessed Jean, I’d only been joking--I was sure she was just going to tell me about someone new she wanted to hook me up with.

But she only grinned at my disbelief, definitely smug now. “Would I ever lie to you, Marco, old friend?” She turned to walk beside me and hooked her arm through mine. “I invited him and that hottie with a body Johnny Boy to the New Year’s Eve party.”

It was my turn to squeal and jump up and down. “Sasha, you’ve gotta be kidding, this is the best news ever!”

She hummed, smiling at my excitement. “Aren’t you glad you agreed to come to the party now?”

I laughed and hugged her with one arm. “You know I am!”

“Now promise me you’re gonna get that D.”

“Sasha!”

 

The only problem with me going to the New Year’s Eve party was that I still wasn’t any good at them. Sasha had sobered my nerves with at least three shots of peppermint schnapps (and various other drinks), but I was still fumbling and nervous and awkward. “Sasha what if he doesn’t like me anymore?” I asked--well yelled is more like it, given how loud and pulsing the music around us was.

She wasn’t having any of my nervousness though, her hand wrapped in a vice grip around my wrist as she dragged me through the party. “Why wouldn’t he like you anymore?

“Well!” I was beginning to feel the littlest bit dizzy from the alcohol, and as I stumbled along behind her, my mind pulled blanks as to why he wouldn’t like me. After all, I had a pretty nice ass. “I didn’t give him my number, won’t he be mad?” I finally managed to supply. “He’ll think I don’t really like him!”

She looked back at me specifically to roll her eyes. And then she turned around and dragged me further into the crowd. “He’ll get over it once you explain. Just talk to the guy, you dumb butt!”

I grimaced. “But Sash--”

“Look!” she cried, interrupting me. “I found one!” She pointed ahead where she’d caught a glimpse of Connie as he turned a corner, and before I knew it, she’d dropped my hand completely and raced after him.

Leaving me stranded in the middle of the living room, more than a little drunk and surrounded by people I didn’t know.

 _This is why I don’t like parties_ , I thought.

The music surrounded me more than the people it seemed, pounding through the floorboards, and barely overcome by the sound of the crowd cheering and singing and laughing and talking. I stumbled through every note, searching blearily for someone I recognized. It was starting to feel a little hopeless, and after what felt like hours (but was really only the duration of three songs), I decided maybe it was best for me to just stop somewhere and wait for Sasha to find me.

It was even harder to find a place to rest though, every spot occupied by someone definitely drunker than me and more into the party as well. It was more of a struggle not to bump into someone than it was to think straight through the alcohol clouding my brain.

So of course I stumbled into someone.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I gasped, holding onto their shoulder just long enough to catch my balance again.

They looked back at me with wide eyes, and the moment they turned to me, I recognized them. My eyes widened, and I felt a grin spread across my face. “Jean?

He smiled too, disbelief evident on his face. “Marco?” He laughed, sounding more at ease than he had at the hockey game weeks before. I wondered if the bottle of beer in his hand was the culprit of his raised confidence. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“It’s Sasha’s party,” I explained lamely, fighting the urge to facepalm when I remembered he’d probably know that, if Connie was the one who’d brought him here.

He nodded but didn’t tell me that he’d already known at least--probably to save me the embarrassment. “Uh, so you getting something to drink?” he asked, pointing at the empty cup in my hand.

I looked down at it dazedly for a moment and then looked up at him and smiled a little. “Sure!”

He raised his eyebrows at me, and I wondered if it was obvious how many drinks I’d had. Maybe he could count the amount in the blur of my eyes. “Come on, let’s get a refill together,” he said, shaking his empty beer bottle.

He took my hand, and that touch alone would’ve been enough to get me drunk, in all honesty. With that firm grip, he led me easily through the crowd and into the kitchen where an array of drinks and snacks were laid out for the guests to ravage. “What’re you getting, Marco?” he asked, letting me go by the corner of the table.

“Peppermint schnapps,” I replied, reaching up to rub at my temples and get rid of the headache building there.

He refilled the cup and slid it over to me, but not before taking a sip and considering the flavor. “Not bad,” he chuckled. “You’re into the peppermint thing, huh?”

I smiled at him, my stomach feeling warm, although I wasn’t sure if that was because of the alcohol or because of the way he smiled at me. “Tis the season,” I answered, and he laughed in response, only serving to make my stomach fairly melt.

Standing beside me, he raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “So, uh, how many drinks have you had, man? No offense, but you look drunk off your rocker.”

I blushed, wondering if he’d write it off as the alcohol making my face red. “Um, a few,” I lied, badly because the words were followed by a guilty little giggle.

He merely laughed in response. “Well, here’s a secret, I’ve had more than a few too,” he responded, nudging my shoulder with his.

I gasped at him, leaning in as if whispering conspiratorially with him. “Why so many?” I asked.

He blushed too--I was sure of it--before looking away. “Um. Kinda nervous,” he admitted softly--I barely heard him above the pulse of the music around us. His head shot up, and before I could ask him why, he asked, “What about you?”

I shrugged, looking away. “I-I um… I’m kinda nervous too,” I told him.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Well…” My brain’s fuzz was starting to come back as I turned to him. “I’m kinda scared I fucked something up...”

He squinted at me, and for some reason, it seemed as if he moved closer to me. “Oh?” he hummed. “How do you know?”

I looked up at him, and for a moment, our eyes met. Just like that first meeting, his sharp, golden eyes took my breath away. I couldn’t hear the music or feel the chill of the air.

“I… I guess I don’t know for sure,” I whispered after what seemed like years of staring.

He hummed again, taking a long sip of his beer. “Yeah? Well. Maybe I can help you figure it out?”

I bit my lip around a tiny smile. “How will you do that?”

He chuckled, definitely leaning closer now. “You could always ask if you did.”

My stomach was doing flips, and I couldn’t blame it entirely on the alcohol making my head ache and my skin burn. I wondered if he’d lean all the way across, like he had before, at the hockey game. Suddenly the memory of his lips pressed warm and sweet against mine--of his hands on my arms, of his chest rising against my fingertips--flooded my head and made it spin. I wanted to feel it again, to close that distance hanging between us, heavy like the beer he was setting down on the table.

“Well, Marco?” he whispered, his eyes shining as they met mine. He smiled a little, teeth digging into the corner of his lip as he waited for me. “You gonna ask?”

I smiled, feeling breathless as I opened my mouth to speak.

But before I could, someone bumped into me from behind and sent me face first into Jean. “Oh shit!” he gasped, and I squeaked in surprise, clumsy hands dropping my cup and sending its contents splashing all over his chest.

“O-oh,” I breathed, as he shouted for the person to back away from us. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

He leaned back, looking away from the person who’d bumped into me and looking at me instead. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

I could only stare at his shirt. His thin white shirt. Soaking wet with a shot of peppermint schnapps.

“Oh…” I breathed.

He followed my gaze down to his shirt and grimaced. “Oh shit,” he gasped, leaning back and looking at the mess of his shirt. “Dammit--”

“Um.” He looked up at me, raising his eyebrows in question. I hadn’t even realized I’d spoken. “Oh.” I swallowed hard and looked up at him. “Sasha’s brother.”

He squinted at me. “Um. What about him?”

It was kind of hard to think straight between the peppermint schnapps and the way his muscles looked when the wet cloth stuck to every ridge of them. But I somehow managed to say, “His room is upstairs. Maybe we can steal a shirt and explain later?”

The walk upstairs was stumbly, but somewhere along the way he started to laugh at the sharp smell of alcohol and peppermint filling the air between us, and I started to laugh along with him. Somehow we managed to find a bedroom, and I let go of his hand--or tried, but he only gripped mine tighter, using it to pull me close to him.

We ended up chest to chest, and he smiled at me in a way that made my stomach do flips. The music downstairs had faded into the background, and the night air felt chillier around us--but not where we pressed together. “So,” he murmured, his eyes piercingly bright in the darkness of the room.  “You were going to ask me something?”

I found myself smiling dumbly, my freehand trailing slowly up his chest, despite the wetness making my fingers sticky. “Mmm, what size do you wear?”

He snickered at that and stepped back (much to my unvoiced dismay). Granted, I couldn’t complain when he reached over his head and gripped the back of his shirt to pull it up and off of himself. He checked the tag and told me, “Medium.” It seemed innocent enough, but the way he looked up at me, a mischievous glint in his eye, told me the intentions were less than pure.

I couldn’t blame him for going shirtless just to distract me. It was, in fact, quite the distraction; his chest and stomach (read: abs) were glistening with the schnapps. It occurred to me suddenly that I knew what his chest felt like beneath my hands. I swallowed hard and whipped around, heading for the dresser on the other side of the room. I was sure my face was bright red, that he could hear my heart beating against my ribs.

I dug through a drawer, looking for a shirt before I realized. “Oh,” I muttered, ducking my head in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” Jean asked, making me want to shrink into a ball and disappear.

I kept my face buried in the dresser and the soft cotton shirts as I mumbled. “This is Sasha’s room…”

He went silent for a moment, and I stood up straight to look at him nervously. Only to find him holding back laughter. I gaped at him, and he started to laugh whole-heartedly, his voice loud and bright and heart-melting as he plopped onto the edge of the bed in the corner of the room. “God Marco,” he laughed, making my face blush even redder. “I don’t really want another shirt.”

I squinted at him in question, slowly pushing the drawer closed. “What do you mean?”

Jean’s eyes glinted in the dim lighting of the room when he looked up at me and rose to his feet. I backed against the dresser as he came closer. My heart was pounding, but the smile on his face made me smile too. He stopped in front of me, and I realized his hands were shaking. When I met his eyes, I saw the nerves he’d been drinking to hide. “D-do you wanna ask me?” he whispered.

We were toe to toe now, and his hands were twitching by his sides. “Ask you what?” I answered softly, not letting my gaze drop from his.

He glanced away for a moment before flicking his eyes back to mine. “If you fucked up.”

I smiled--I couldn’t help it. I wondered what he thought of my smile--if he thought it was as warm and bright as I considered his to be.“Did I?” I asked.

He grinned in response, and instead of saying a word, he surged forward and pressed our lips together.

Just like it had before in the hockey arena, it was as if time had stopped for just us two, a little bubble forming around our heads and everywhere our bodies touched. Except this time his hands pressed against my sides, in the dip of my waist. Except this time, I could wind my arms around his neck. Except this time, I hummed and shut my eyes and tilted my head to better fit our lips together. My hands were in his hair, and his arms were around my waist, and the taste of lips echoed with beer and something sweet--

  
He pulled away for a brief moment to smile shakily at me and rest our foreheads together. “You taste like peppermint,” he breathed.

I laughed, breathlessly, before cupping his face in my hands and bringing his lips down to mine again. “Peppermint schnapps,” I explained, and he laughed into the kiss.

It seemed like hours later that we lay on the bed against each other, looking dreamily into each other’s eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot to give you my number,” I whispered, curling up against his chest.

“Can’t believe I let you go without asking for it,” he responded, his voice soft with sleepiness.

Somewhere downstairs, people were drunkenly gathering to count down to midnight, first moment of the new year. I laid my head against Jean’s chest and listened to his heartbeat and their voices for a moment until he suddenly whispered, “You know I heard this old wive’s tale.”

I tilted my head up to look at him in question. He blushed and looked away. “That uh. When you kiss someone at midnight on New Year’s Day, you’ll be together forever…”

I blinked at him for a moment, surprised by the implication. I felt myself beginning to blush as the countdown started.

5 had him looking me in the eye.

4 had me leaning closer.

3 had him laughing as we neared each other.

2 had me leaning my forehead against his.

1 and he was tilting his head.

By the time 0 hit, we were kissing again, long and slow and warm, and I thought for a moment that I wouldn’t mind forever like that.

When we pulled apart again, I could almost pretend the cheering downstairs was for just us. “So,” I breathed.

“So.”

I laughed and kissed him again, once, sweetly, and then rested against his chest again. “I think I need to sleep off this alcohol,” I admitted, and he chuckled in response before pulling me close against his chest.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, “I gotcha.”

I smiled sheepishly and nodded, closing my eyes before long and passing out, cheek pressed against his skin.

 

The sound of my ringtone screaming the arrival of a text message was what finally shoved me out of my sweet dreams and out of the warm arms wrapped around my waist. Blearily I fumbled around for my phone, somehow lost amongst the sheets, still buzzing with new messages.

3 new messages, all from Sasha.

“So when I said get some D, I didn’t mean in my bed bro.” I snorted and rolled my eyes swiping to the next one.

“I don’t blame you though, he is A+ shirtless, I hit the jackpot for you!!!!” I had to laugh at that one.

“Okay but does this mean you two are totally a thing now????”

I stopped at that and sank back into the covers. Jean’s arms tightened around my waist and he nuzzled closer to my back, letting out a sleepy whimper. The sound made me smile softly. It was something I could definitely get used to.

“You are the best wingwoman, Sasha,” I texted her before putting my phone on silent and snuggling up close to Jean’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey secretjeanmarco, it's me, your Secret Santa!! You asked for a missed connection or Winter themed AU, and I thought mixing them might be fun, so here you are! A hockey game first meeting gone wrong!
> 
> I've seen you reblog my writing before, so I hope this piece doesn't disappoint compared! I really enjoyed writing it (you've gotten me hooked on the idea of a missed connection AU too!), and I can't wait for you to read it!
> 
> I hope you have a great holiday/winter break! Much love, novelistangel!


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